


Love and Hate

by Blue_Night



Category: Football RPF, Original Work, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Betrayal, Captivity, Chains, Choking, Despair, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies, Fights, Hidden Desires, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Rituals, Mistrust, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Scotland, fictional Scottish Clans, historical typical violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Robert, the young chief of the proud Lewandoc clan, and Erik, son of the chief of the Durmie clan, have once been close friends. But they are enemies now, and Erik is Robert's hostage and at his complete mercy. Will Robert take revenge on Erik for what he thinks that Erik has done?





	1. Like a Dog

**Author's Note:**

> This would probably make for a longer WIP, but I'm not sure if I will max out the full potential of this fic or just add the few more chapters I first had in mind. I'm in the mood for dark and this fic will be rather dark, I guess, depending on how I will feel about it while writing it. I mused about settling this in my Roman world, which would have been possible as well, but I couldn't resist the temptation of trying a story settled in old Scotland, making my favorite characters proud Scottish clanmen. 
> 
> If someone is interested, then I will add more background information about the clans the ones I've created are based upon. I opted for leaving the real names of my characters as recognizable as possible but to make them sound as Scottish as possible. 
> 
> My last updates and stories in the football fandom have gotten only little love and feedback, hardly any user kudos or comments and bookmarks, and I'm not sure for how much longer I want to write for silent readers caring only so little about my writing. I know that dark and this pairing is most likely not the cup of tea of a lot of people, but all of my stories in this fandom are getting hardly any feedback anymore, so it's probably not of any concern what I'm writing and posting any longer anyway, and writing has always been my way of coping and dealing with the things happening in my life, and dark is what fits best at the moment. The length of this fic will depend on the reactions to it.
> 
> Robert Lewandowski: _Robert, Mormaer of the Lewandoc clan._
> 
> Erik Durm: _Erik, son of the Mormaer of the Durmie clan._
> 
> Mats Hummels: _Mata Hummel of Lewandoc_ , Robert's first loyal tacksman.
> 
> Niklas Süle: _Neacal Suillech of Lewandoc_ , one of Robert's young clanmen and Erik's guard.
> 
> Joshua Kimmich: _Josh Kinnon of Lewandoc_ , Neacal's friend and Erik's other guard.
> 
>  _'Mormaer'_ : the Scottish aristocratic title that changed to the English title 'Earl' later. I decided to use Mormaer rather than Earl.
> 
>  _'Tacksman'_ : a man supporting the clan chief, mostly important and powerful members of the family of the clan chief.
> 
> The colors of the tartans mentioned in this fic are based on the colors of the actual or former clubs of my characters but changed in a way that they match better with the colors of real Scottish tartans. A big thank you goes to mariothellama for helping me with the right clothing. I apologize for all the inaccuracies that will come naturally with my lack of deeper knowledge of this fascinating culture.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik visits Robert in Lewandoc Castle late at night, and Robert takes advantage of Erik coming alone and takes him as his prisoner, chaining him to the wall next to his hounds...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was actually supposed to be a oneshot, but writing is difficult and slow at the moment, and this rather short chapter took me an awful long time to write it.

“Chain him.”

The order was given in a quiet and calm voice, but the quiet made it sound even more dangerous.

The two guards who had brought the late visitor to the knight's hall of Lewandoc Castle grabbed the young man and dragged him over to the wall where the hounds were chained, closing the iron shackle of the loose chain around his neck. The three tall beasts growled deep in their throat, pulling at their own chains, but they couldn't reach the human who was shoved against the hard stone now, baring their teeth and growling again when the iron around their bulky necks restrained their movements, keeping them from going for the human's throat.

The young Scotsman didn't spare a second glance at the barking and howling hounds when they tried to snap at him, and the tallest one of them lay down beside him with an unhappy and confused whine when the human's familiar scent penetrated its nose, causing its two mates to do the same, their eyes searching for their master's gaze as thought they wanted to ask him why he wanted this special human to be chained next to them.

“Out, Hunter!” Robert, Mormaer of Lewandoc, said without looking at the dogs or raising his voice, watching his men shackling his unexpected late visitor with an impassive face, his handsome aristocratic features settled into a stoic mask that gave nothing away of his true feelings. Only his cerulean eyes shone dark with hate and fury, and warriors much older than his nightly visitor would have flinched back from the ire glowing behind the thin facade of controlled arrogance.

Erik Durmie, son of the Mormaer of Durmie, neither flinched, nor did he fight against his captors or the cold iron chain threatening to suffocate him, he just held Robert's gaze, his own hazel-green eyes fixed on the deep blue orbs that were the only visible signs that the man standing before him with slightly spread legs and his arms crossed before his chest was alive and not just a beautiful marble statue.

“I didn't come here as your enemy, Robert,” was all he said as he leaned against the wall to ease the weight of the heavy shackle a little bit, his voice as calm as Robert's had been, his expression carefully blank.

Robert didn't change his posture, he only jerked his head at his younger clan members. “Leave us alone.” They obeyed silently, leaving the knight's hall with a quick glance back at the young captive with the light brown hair and the handsome and still boyish features. Erik Durmie had once been a cherished and beloved friend to the Lewandoc clan, but times had changed, and they probably mused about his foolhardiness and stupidity to come here all alone and offer himself on a silver platter like that.

Robert waited until the heavy wooden door had closed behind them before giving up his posture and stalking over to the wall, ignoring the hounds whining for his attention. He stopped before Erik, their bodies almost touching, the heat of his anger radiating from him battling with the icy chill that emanated from the thick gray stone behind the other man's back.

Erik lifted his chin up to meet Robert's gaze, and his hands hanging loosely at his sides twitched as if he wanted to touch the older man. He didn't reach out for him though, and Robert braced his palms against the rough stone at each side of Erik's head, his face still impassive, but the hate in his eyes was blazing high now, the icy blue fire a sharp contrast to the gloomy darkness of the large chamber that was illuminated by the fire burning in the open hearth and the four torches attached to the walls in the corners of the knight's hall only.

“I don't care about what you came here as, Erik Durmie. You're my prisoner now, and you're only still alive because your miserable existence is yet of a higher value to me at the moment than your dead body would be. You'll better pray that it will stay that way because nothing will keep me from killing you with my own two hands if this will change.”

Erik returned his furious glance without blinking. “There have been times when you called me brother, Robert.”

“And I regret it that I've ever done that. Brothers don't betray each other like you've betrayed me – and _him_!” Robert spat out, his controlled mask cracking at last. His fingers closed around Erik's neck before he realized what he was doing, tightening their grip around warm flesh and fragrant skin until Erik unconsciously tensed up, gulping for air.

“I didn't betray you, Robert – nor did I betray him. He was my friend as much as he was yours, and you know that! I'd rather die than betray either of you.” Erik's eyes darkened with the mortal fear every living being felt when being suffocated like this, but his hands didn't come up to try and make Robert loosen his painful grip around his throat. He simply kept returning Robert's gaze, waiting for the older man to either kill him with his bare hands like Robert had promised him to do - or to remove his hands from his neck because Erik's life was still of higher value to him than his death would be, no matter how much Robert, Mormear of Lewandoc, longed to see him dead.

“Would you, Erik Durmie, really? Why is it then that you're still alive - while _he_ is dead? Dead because you lured _him_ into a trap you knew that it would kill _him_? You couldn't wait to get rid of _him_ , could you, traitor?” The young Mormaer of Lewandoc tightened his grip a little bit more before tearing his hands away from his captive, staring with a disgusted expression at the red mark his fingers had left right above the iron collar.

Robert felt sick with self-loathe and helpless anger, and he balled his hands to tight fists to keep himself from choking the younger man again, and if it was only to make Erik confess his guilt, confess what he had done that had damaged their friendship beyond repair and for all times.

Erik drew in a shaky breath, swallowing against the sore feeling in his throat, but he didn't defend himself or his actions, just looked at Robert with dark eyes. “Do with me as it pleases you, Robert. If chaining me and killing me makes the pain of his loss more bearable for you, then just go ahead.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and when Robert remained silent, not uttering a single word more, Erik closed his eyes and slowly glided down along the wall until he was sitting on the with straw covered stony floor, crossing his legs and putting his hands on his knees. Robert's gaze was caught by the small stripe of shimmering pale skin of Erik's slim thighs that was visible between the hem of his kilt and his knee-long black leather boots, but he tore his eyes away from the somewhat disturbing and tempting sight.

Robert had always thought that the colors of the Durmie tartan suited Erik perfectly, the yellow-golden lines in between the black and dark-gray squares making his hair and his skin shine. The younger man wore a simple yellow shirt to his kilt, the black leather jerkin and the tartan plaid thrown over his shoulder the only clothing protecting him from the ice-cold wind that always blew over the highlands at this time of the year. Erik was a true child of his clan, he had been born and raised in the highlands just like Robert, and he withstood the cold and the storms like every true Scotsman did, his pale lips the only sign that he did feel the coldness of the stony floor, the straw not protecting him enough from the icy chill the fire in the hearth couldn't defeat completely.

Robert hadn't even bothered to dress his own leather jerkin today, he welcomed the cold outside that matched perfectly with the fire raging inside him, quenching it until he didn't feel like burning from the inside any longer, and he had even rolled up the sleeves of his own black shirt, no goosebumps visible on his bare forearms as he crossed his arms before his chest again. His kilt with the tartan of his clan was the only colored clothing Robert Lewandoc was willing to wear, his shirts, jerkin and his boots were always black. The rather broad dark-blue lines crossing the deep red squares of the Lewandoc tartan matched perfectly with Robert's dark male beauty, and the thin white lines that completed the colors of his clan contrasted with his black shirt and his long boots in a very appealing way.

There had been times when he, Erik and the one Robert's heart was crying for had changed their kilts just for fun, debating cheerfully about which colors suited each of them best. Robert could still see his reflection before his mind's eye when he had regarded himself in the polished silver of the mirror, and he still remembered how his heart had beaten faster at the sight of himself wearing _his_ colors, the thin white, golden and black lines crossing the rich dark-green squares of the tartan that had been so much more familiar to Robert than the colors of his own clan had actually been when he had still been a young boy.

Robert still remembered the golden sparks dancing around in _his_ eyes when _he_ had observed him and Erik, and he wasn't prepared for the sharp pain shooting right through him by the memory of former times, so much happier and long gone.

The young Mormaer of Lewandoc blinked against the rush of memories floating his mind, and he stared down at his prisoner for a few more seconds as he struggled to win back his composure and self-control. Hunter and his two mates had stopped their whining, and they had crawled closer to the brunet, instinctively protecting their friend from the wrath of their master they didn't understand at all. The hounds didn't know what Erik Durmie had done, and Robert had to fight against the unbidden urge to kneel down before the younger man's slumped figure and touch his softly rounded cheek at the sight of his childhood friend being chained to the wall like the three animals beside him.

Instead, he walked over to the door to almost flee from this place, knowing that he would do something he would regret if he stayed for one more minute. He could feel the pleading eyes of his dogs on his back but not Erik's, and the sight he caught of Erik when he threw a last glance over his shoulder – his former cherished friend sitting before the wall with slumped shoulders, the iron shackle enclosing tightly his slim neck – haunted Robert for the rest of the night.

 

***

 

“You can't do that, Robert. You can't chain him like one of your dogs.”

Robert looked up from his bowl to return the calm gaze of his tacksman Mata with narrowed eyes. He put his spoon back into the bowl with the warm porridge, and only his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fingers around the wooden handle betrayed his inner turmoil. He resisted the urge to look over to where Erik was sitting, still chained to the wall where Robert had left him two days ago, chewing on the hard bread crust that served as his breakfast. The heavy iron had left its traces on Erik's neck, deep red marks blemishing the smooth pale skin of his vulnerable throat.

Robert had avoided going to the knight's hall until Mata had returned from his trip to the outposts of their territories this morning, and he was aware that most of his clan members probably shared the opinion of his first tacksman, but none of his men had dared to utter their concerns about the way Robert treated the son of the Mormear of Durmie so far. He should have known that Mata wouldn't hesitate to become his voice of conscience, and he suppressed his anger with effort, not wanting to risk an open fight with his most important and powerful tacksman in front of his prisoner and their clan men.

“No matter what Erik Durmie is guilty of, but you can't do that, chief,” Mata continued when Robert didn't reply, only looked at him with angrily glowing eyes. “Throw him into the dungeon as your prisoner or keep him as your valuable hostage and lock him in the tower rooms, but don't keep him chained like one of your hounds. That's not the way the Lewandocs treat their prisoners and hostages, especially not the son of another powerful clan chief who has been one of our most valued allies not that long ago.”

Hunter howled pleadingly as if to confirm Mata's words, pushing his nose against Erik's dirt-stained leg as the tall hound sought the human's comfort, his dark brown eyes searching for Robert's gaze questioningly and reproachfully at the same time. Hunter wasn't used to be ignored by his beloved master, but Robert hadn't been able to see to his dogs himself like he was normally doing it, leaving it up to his two younger clan members Neacal and Josh to take care of his faithful companions and see to Erik's private needs and meager meals. The young Durmie patted the head of the hound, murmuring something unintelligible into his ear. Robert stared down at his tousled shock of thick light-brown hair, lusterless and greasy after two days of sleeping on moldy straw, and the young Mormaer of Lewandoc pushed his bowl aside, the mere thought of having to swallow another bite of the delicious porridge making him feel sick to his stomach.

“He deserves much worse for what he has done, Mata!” the dark-haired chief of the Lewandoc clan ground out through gritted teeth, and his friend and loyal tacksman raised one of his eyebrows at him.

“If that's true, why didn't you kill him right when he came to you, my friend? I won't tell you to show him mercy or even release him from his captivity, I'm just telling you that treating him the way you're doing it will only lead to more bloodshed and hate. We can't risk having to fight at two fronts, Robert. You have responsibilities towards our clan, and they have to come first. Don't let your understandable hate and anger get the better out of you and blot out all reason, Robert.”

Robert lowered his head down. “You're right, Mata.” There was a rather long moment of silence between them as the young Mormaer contemplated Mata's advice, and Robert's gaze was hard and strict when he raised his head again to give Neacal and Josh new orders.

“Unchain him and bring him to the tower rooms. He is allowed to clean himself and two proper meals a day, breakfast and supper. I want his quarters to be guarded day and night by two men, and I expect daily reports about his doing from the two of you personally. No visitors. I know that the Durmies have still friends here in Lewandoc Castle, and I won't allow any conspiracies behind my back. I'll make the two of you responsible for whoever might think that my orders are of no concern to them, am I understood?”

“Yes, chief, you are!” Josh nodded his head, waving at his companion to get up from the bench and carry out Robert's orders.

Erik had raised his head at the sound of Robert's voice, his red-rimmed but still so beautiful hazel-green eyes searching silently for something in Robert's face the young Mormaer of Lewandoc didn't know what it was Erik Durmie was looking for.

Josh and Neacal unshackled him with disgusted expressions on their features, and Robert wasn't sure whether it came from the stench that was left all over the young highlander after having spent two long days covered in dirt and next to the hounds, or if it came from the hate his two clan members felt because of Erik's betrayal.

They pulled roughly at Erik's arms, and the brunet struggled to his feet with a suppressed groan at the harsh treatment, but he didn't say anything, neither uttering a single word of protest, nor did he try to defend himself or ask for Robert listening to what he might have to say. He just shot a quick thoughtful and grateful look in Mata's direction that somewhat annoyed the dark-haired clan chief of the Lewandocs pretty much, and he let himself be dragged out of the knight's hall without any other glance at Robert.

The Mormaer of Lewandoc watched the heavy door fall shut behind the three men with the impassive mask he always hid his feelings with, and he only realized that he had bitten down on the inside of his cheeks to keep his words of hate, anger and despair from tumbling out of his mouth when he could taste blood on his tongue.


	2. Painful Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert visits Erik in the tower rooms after having avoided him for two more days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sure if I will make a 'real' WIP out of this or just add the few chapters which will be about Robert keeping Erik imprisoned and taking revenge on him.  
> It will depend on the feedback each chapter will get or not get. But I decided to add more background information, to answer some of the questions the first one has aroused. I decided to write the ancient Scottish clan culture in a way that two men can be officially together. This is only fiction and my own imagination of course, but something like this could perhaps existed in some of our ancient Earthen cultures.
> 
> I also changed the names of the characters introduced in this chapter again to make them sound Scottish or Gaelic. I decided to leave Marco's name the way it is though, because there are a lot of other players with the name 'Mark' - which would be the correct Scottish name for him - or 'Marc', and Marcus or Markus - which would be better than Marco actually - is reserved for my beloved Roman Marcus Retus. Lovely mariothellama assured me that Marco's Scottish name is not out of place. Thank you so much for your help, my dear! <33
> 
> Marco Reus: _Marco Reuss_ , the son of the chief of the Reuss clan. 
> 
> Sven Ulreich: _Sven Uillrach of Lewandoc_ , Erik's guard, one of Robert's cousins and his loyal clanman.
> 
> James Rodriguez: _Seamus Ruairidh_ , one of Robert's loyal clanman and Erik's guard. Seamus is the Gaelic version of the name James, and Ruairidh is the Gaelic version of the name Roderick - which matches perfectly with Rodriguez. :-)
> 
> _steading_ : Scottish for homestead.
> 
> _'mate-ship'_ : the chiefs of two clans or their heirs becoming bonded mates to form a strong alliance between their clans. It's a ceremony like a marriage, and the two mates live together like a married couple after completing their mate-ship.
> 
> If anyone is interested, then I will give more information about the real clans my fictionary clans are based on in the notes of the next chapter.

Robert had climbed the steep stairs to the tower rooms of Castle Lewandoc many, many times in his life, but his legs had never felt as heavy as they felt as he now climbed the stairs two days later. He had resisted the urge to visit his hostage and do something he might regret later so far, but he knew that he couldn't avoid visiting Erik in his locked quarters for much longer.

Mata hadn't said anything more when Robert had given Josh and Neacal new orders, but Robert could feel Mata's dark eyes regarding him thoughtfully on a regular basis when they were riding over the pastures belonging to Castle Lewandoc together, and he could literally grab Mata's disapproval about his cowardly behavior with both hands. His loyal tacksman couldn't know the real reason for Robert's unwillingness to talk to Erik, and Robert couldn't bring himself to tell him the painful truth.

It wasn't actually cowardice that had made Robert stay away from his former friend and now hostage, it was simply that Robert didn't trust himself enough to be alone with Erik, fearing that he would reveal the real depths of his feelings and his hurt to the younger highlander, feelings he didn't dare to admit them to himself even. He still had nightmares, the memory of how Erik had looked sitting on the dirty straw chained like an animal haunting him every night, and Robert seemed unable to forget the red marks the iron shackle had carved into the smooth skin of Erik's elegant neck. Robert could still hear the rustling of the iron chain he had chained Erik with like a dog whenever he closed his eyes, and he could hear the screams of the one he had lost echoing in his mind, amber-golden eyes looking pleadingly at him as if _he_ wanted to ask Robert why he hadn't been there to save _him_ when _he_ had needed him the most.

The dark-haired chief of the Lewandoc clan didn't know why he should still bother about Erik's well-being after what the Durmie had done to him and their friend, destroying Robert's future and everything that had ever meant anything to him, but he did care about Erik, no matter how hard he fought against his inappropriate feelings, hating himself for his weakness and his inability to take revenge on Erik like he actually should do.

Robert had spent the last two days with seeing to his duties, checking his flocks of sheep and visiting the small hamlets and steadings of of his clan members to listen to their needs and their problems. Times were uncertain, other clans striving to expand their territories and gain more power over the others, and having the loyalty of your people and your allied clans living next to you was crucial for surviving. Robert knew that quite well - as much as he knew that only the forthcoming hard winter granted the fragile peace and truces between the various clans that called the Scottish Highlands their home. Starting a war when winter was just around the corner was a foolish thing to do, but Robert couldn't count on Erik's father not trying to free his son and heir by force regardless of the horrible weather and what doing that would actually mean to his own people, the equally proud and powerful Durmie clan.

Honor was a highly valued good, and wars had been started for much less than one clan taking the important member of another clan hostage. Robert was actually surprised that Tamlane Durmie hadn't come to Castle Lewandoc so far, but it was only a matter of time until he would do so.

His feet slowed down of their own will when Robert climbed the last steps, and he stopped for a second to settle his features into the mask of stoic impassiveness he had schooled over the years to hide his thoughts behind it and not give his feelings away.

Josh and Neacal had done their job properly and chosen Erik's guards carefully, letting him be guarded by those of Robert's clanmen who were level-headed and experienced enough not to let their personal opinion and feelings get in the way of their duties. Sven Uillrach of Lewandoc was one of Robert's cousins, and Seumas Ruairidh coming from a side-line from the Lewandoc clan owed Robert his life and wouldn't go against Robert's orders either. Both men greeted their chief with a short but respectful bow when Robert approached them, stepping aside to let their Mormaer pass.

“Is there anything I should know?” Robert inquired, his hand hovering over the door handle when Seamus Ruairidh had turned the key in the lock, hoping that they wouldn't notice the slight hoarseness of his voice he couldn't completely suppress.

Sven shook his head. “Nothing, chief. He has been quiet and cooperative so far. Neacal has brought him dinner half an hour ago, we wanted to check on him and pick up the tray in a few minutes.”

Robert nodded tersely. “I will do that myself. Lock the door behind me again. You know today's sign?” He had ordered Josh and Neacal to take turns in setting up a special sequence of knocks every day anew in case that Robert wanted to visit Erik. This precaution would make sure that Erik wouldn't be able to fool his guards and surprise them with an escape attempt after subduing their chief and pretending to be Robert to make them open the door for him. Josh had just informed him about the sequence he had set up for today, and only he, Robert and Sven knew it. Tomorrow, it would be Neacal choosing the new one, informing Seamus and Robert in case that Robert would want to visit the Durmie again.

Sven smiled grimly. “Yes, I do, chief. I also know your way of knocking, he won't be able to deceive me.”

The young Mormaer drew in a deep sigh and straightened his shoulders. “Fair enough, let's see how the traitor is doing today, then.”

 

***

 

Erik was sitting on the small cot standing before the wall opposite the door when Robert entered the tower rooms, slowly raising his head when he heard the creaking of the opening door. It must be either guilt or surprise that was flickering briefly over his pale face when he realized who his visitor was, but the emotion was gone again before Robert could be sure about which one it had been, and he found himself wishing that Erik still had a conscience and actually felt guilty about what he had done.

The food on the plate was still more or less untouched as Robert noticed next, and it angered him more than it probably should. The dark-haired Mormaer tried to convince himself that it was only because his clan had not enough supplies for the forthcoming long winter to waste any food, but a small voice whispering inside his head told him that his real concern was the paleness of Erik's face and the hollowness of his cheeks that hadn't been there when Erik had come to him four days ago.

Robert should actually be pleased about the poor state of his former close friend and now prisoner, drawing some grim satisfaction out of the younger man's obvious suffering, but all he felt was exhaustion, and he simply pointed strictly at the platter with Erik's dinner instead of a greeting.

“I won't allow you to starve yourself, Durmie. You came to me, not the other way round, and if you want me to listen to you, then sit down and empty this bowl. I have no food to waste on traitors.” His voice was hard with both, anger and the concern about Erik's state he couldn't suppress fully, and the brunet got up from the bed silently to walk over to the wooden table under the tiny window and sit down on one of the two hard stool, staring at the closed door for a moment before obeying Robert's harsh order.

Robert leaned against the wall next to the door with his arms folded across his chest, watching impassively Erik taking the spoon to dip it into the now cold stew. His gaze dropped down to Erik's exposed neck against his will when the younger highlander bent over his bowl, his eyes glued to the still visible red marks the iron shackle and his own fingers had left upon Erik's neck. The Durmie stiffened under his silent stare, and his hand came up to rub the purple lines enclosing his throat like a precious necklace would adorn the swan-like neck of a lady.

Robert swallowed, tearing his flickering gaze away from the long and elegant fingers. Josh and Neacal had complied with their chief's order and provided Erik with the necessary items so he could wash himself and see to his private needs and body hygiene. There was a bowl with water sitting on the small washstand next to the bed, together with a cloth, a comb and a towel, and the chamber pot peeking out from under the cot didn't emanate any disgusting smells, which proved to Robert that Erik's guards cleaned it on a regular basis. The lack of hygiene was what made people getting sick as Robert knew from experience, and he was very strict when it came to such things, one of the reasons why Mata had been so surprised about the way his chief had treated his hostage as he had chained him next to his hounds for two days.

Erik still hadn't said a single word when he finally put the bowl to the side, lifting his chin to meet Robert's blue eyes with hazel-green ones, his face expressionless, but there was a glint of defiance and hurt detectable in his calm gaze Erik had no right to feel at all in Robert's opinion.

The dark-haired Mormaer of Lewandoc pushed himself away from the rough wall, glad that the faint glow of the two small candles attached to the wall beside the door left most of his face in the shadows as he stalked over to Erik watching him warily. The Durmie had to crane his neck to look at Robert, but his position didn't keep him from returning Robert's hard glare proudly and without blinking.

The young chief of the Lewandoc clan stared down at his hostage, unbidden memories of the happy times they've spent together rising to the surface of his mind.

“Why did you come here, Erik Durmie of the Durmie clan? Tell me why you have come here in the first place! Was it because you thought that you could get away with your betrayal and deceive me? Did you really believe that I would seek comfort in your arms after what you'd done, too foolish and blind to see the truth? Or was it just because you wanted to enjoy my hurt and grief about what you'd taken away from me so cruelly?” Robert snarled in a dangerously low voice, pulling the younger man roughly from his stool to push him against the hard stone behind his back. The thin flames of the candles flickered in the sudden gust of ice-cold wind blowing through the tiny window under the ceiling, secured with iron bars to keep the residents of the tower rooms from escaping.

The bars could keep the prisoners and hostages of the Lewandoc clan inside the room, but they were no real barrier or protection against the weather and the cold, and Erik instinctively leaned in in the attempt to soak up some of Robert's body heat. He looked exhausted and thin so close to Robert's heated glance, the circles under his eyes speaking of restless nights almost black. Erik's lips were raw and bitten, the normally soft pink flesh torn and freckled spots of dried blood.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth, Robert. You actually don't want to hear the truth because it would be too painful for you to bear it. You'd rather dwell in your self-righteous anger and hate instead of finally acknowledging what you already know deep inside your heart.” Erik's words were barely more than a hoarse whisper, but his voice didn't waver, and he didn't avert his eyes from the fire of hate and fury blazing in the cerulean orbs scrutinizing him in Robert's weak attempt to find some answers to the questions burning on his tongue. Erik's words were like a blow in his guts, and kept his face impassive by sheer willpower. He wouldn't give the damn Durmie the satisfaction of winning the upper hand and make Robert take the blame, no way.

“Do you even know the meaning of the word truth, Durmie? Do you know the meaning of loyalty, faith, friendship and honor?” Robert growled furiously. He didn't mean to sound so hurt and betrayed, but he couldn't keep the emotions boiling inside him at bay any longer, and he stepped closer, taking Erik's chin in a hard and painful grip, craving to make Erik feel at least some of the pain that was tearing him apart. Erik's head was shoved against the cold stone with a dull sound, and Robert felt something akin to grim joy at the sharp intake of breath that proved to him that he had been successful for at least a short moment.

“You know that I do, Lewandoc,” the younger highlander gave back, the slightest hint of anger now coloring his still quiet voice as well, but his gaze flickered with something Robert had no trouble to recognize as guilt this time. It was only for the blink of an eye, but the older man had seen it, and Erik knew that he had according to the way he averted his eyes to stare at gray wall at the other side of the small chamber.

“No, I actually don't know that! Plus, I don't think that you will ever understand the real meaning of these things!” Robert growled, his anger fueled anew at the confirmation of his suspicion that Erik had betrayed him.

“If you knew the meaning of these virtues, then you would never have done what you did! But this is what you have craved for all along, isn't it? You have always been jealous of him! You have always wanted me for yourself – even when we have been children, you could never deal with him being closer to me than you were, Erik Durmie!”

“That's not true, Robert, and you know that! Marco has always been my friend just as much as you were! I never begrudged him your friendship, that's a lie! It has always been the three of us, I would have died for him as much as I would have given my life for you!” Erik sounded desperate now, trying to free himself from Robert's merciless grip. The older one growled, trapping Erik between the unyielding wall and his own hard body, forcing him to meet his furious glance as he kept his head immobile with his fingers, not caring about the bruises he left on Erik's jaw with that.

“And yet it is Marco whose body is shattered, Erik, not yours! You've always hated the mere thought of him becoming my bonded mate to form an unbreakable alliance between our clans, fearing that the Durmies would be left out of this sealed alliance of the Reuss and the Lewandocs! Was it your father who ordered you to lure the man you've called your best friend for almost all of your life into the trap that would kill him? Or was it your own doing because you couldn't stand the thought of Marco sharing my bed and my table in the future?”

Their faces were only inches apart, and Robert could see the pain in Erik's eyes, pain because of Robert pressing him against the wall like that, but also pain because of the truth of Robert's accusations.

Robert had known for a rather long time that the youngest one of their trio desired him, Erik's childish hero worship turning into the innocent crush of a young adolescent over the years at first and then into something deeper and much darker, much more dangerous. The son of the Mormaer of Durmie had tried to hide his feelings from his two friends, but Robert had seen his glances and the flush coloring Erik's cheeks every time Robert caught him staring, and he knew that Erik had always longed to take Marco's place and become Robert's bonded mate one day.

Robert's and Marco's fathers had arranged their future mate-ship when Robert and Marco had been small boys, the ritual bonding of the heirs of two clans forming a strong alliance between two clans that couldn't be broken anymore. Such bonds were important in times like these, and neither Robert, nor Marco had ever questioned the oaths their fathers had sworn so long ago. The young Mormaer of Lewandoc had grown up in the firm belief that Marco would be his bonded mate one day, and both of them had loved the heir of the Durmie clan like a younger brother. The territories of the Lewandocs, the Reuss and the Durmies bordered each other, and Robert had thought that Erik would find someone who would become his bonded mate one day as well, the four of them forming an alliance no other clan would ever dare to challenge and attack in the future.

But Erik hadn't been content with just being Robert's friend and foster brother, he wanted Robert for himself. Robert had tried to ignore Erik's heated glances and the seemingly casual touches, but it had become harder and harder to do so over the last months, the hurt and despair the younger highlander felt about his unrequited love and which he had tried to hide from his two friends increasing with every day that passed.

Robert's father had died after an accident shortly before the important date of Robert's bonding with Marco, and they had had to delay it for the six months of mourning. This had been more than a year ago, and somehow Robert hadn't been able to bring himself to fix a new date for completing their mate-ship until a couple of weeks ago.

Marco's father had finally run out of patience and insisted on the ceremony of their bonding taking place at the day of the winter solstice, and Robert had agreed to the request of the chief of the Reuss clan with mixed feelings. He still remembered the look on Erik's face when he had told him about the news, and he still felt a huge lump in his throat at the memory. The young brunet with the beautiful male and yet still so boyish features had stared at him with pale cheeks before turning his head away, and Robert had suddenly felt like choking, his friend's heartache feeling as though he had been stabbed in his own heart.

Yet Robert would never have thought that Erik would go so far to kill Marco to take his place instead, and his vision blurred with new anger when Erik struggled against his firm hold. “This is what you've always wanted, Erik Durmie, isn't it? Taking his place at my table and – more important – in my bed! Let me tell you the good news, your dream will finally come true tonight!” Robert sneered, wrapping his hand around Erik's throat again as he pressed his mouth onto Erik's bitten lips in an angry and fierce, brutal kiss.


	3. The Taste of Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert has visited Erik, and he is now about take revenge for what he thinks that Erik has done...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The positive reactions to the last chapter encouraged me to write the next one right away, but I have to warn you, things will go down - like in really down - before there will be a small silver stripe appearing at the horizon again. I hope that you won't hate me and Robert too much after this reading this chapter. I'll try to hurry with the next one, depending on the reactions this chapter is getting.
> 
> I promised to tell you more about my fictional clans in the notes of this chapter, so here they are:
> 
>  **The _Lewandoc Clan_** :
> 
>  _Territories_ : In the Northwest Highlands, between Ullapool, Lairg and Lochinver.  
>  _Crest_ : two swords crossing each other behind the head of a horse.  
>  _Motto_ : **'I'll defend and protect'**.  
>  _Tartan_ : Deep-red squares with thick dark-blue and thin white lines crossing the squares.  
> The Lewandoc Clan is based on the really existing _**Lennox Clan**_.
> 
>  ** _The Durmie Clan_** :
> 
>  _Territories_ : in the North-East of the territories of the Lewandoc Clan, between Lairg, Invergordon and Dornoch.  
>  _Crest_ : A golden Ring with a Black River before the Ring.  
>  _Motto_ : **'For Trust and Honor'**.  
>  _Tartan_ : Black and dark-gray squares with golden lines crossing them.  
> The Durmie Clan is based on the really existing _**Durie Clan**_ , which stands for 'Black Stream' in Gaelic.
> 
>  ** _The Reuss Clan_** :
> 
>  _Territories_ : In the south of Robert's territories, between Ullapool, Torridon and Gairloch.  
>  _Crest_ : a hand holding a red rose.  
>  _Motto_ : **'Always faithful and true'**.  
>  _Tartan_ : Dark-green squares with black, golden and white lines crossing them.  
> The Reuss Clan is based on the really existing _**Ross Clan**_.
> 
>  _Tamlane, Tamhas_ : different Gaelic versions of the name Thomas, based on the real names of Marco's and Erik's fathers. 
> 
> More information about the other clans showing up later on will follow. I changed the territories, crests, mottos and tartans of the real clans for the sake of this story and to creat my own unique Scottish clans. The colors of the tartans are based on the colors of Robert's, Erik's and Marco's clubs, whereas I combined Marco's first Borussia Mönchen-Gladbach with his current Borussia Dortmund. <33

Erik made a startled noise and tried to push Robert away from him, but the Mormaer of Lewandoc just pressed him harder against the rough stone wall with an angry hiss, forcing his knee between Erik's slim legs with violent force. His grip around Erik's throat made it hard for the younger man to breathe, and Erik gave up his struggles when Robert tightened his hard grasp in warning, going still with the mortal fear of choking overcoming him at Robert's relentless hold.

Robert could feel the rawness of Erik's normally smooth pink lips as he deepened his brutal kiss - which wasn't meant at all as the tender caress of a caring lover but only as a punishment. Robert's mind was spinning with his desire for revenge, the emotions he had bottled up deep inside his heart for so long bursting free without him being able to control them any longer. His teeth ripped Erik's full bottom lip open when he pushed his tongue into Erik's mouth, his only goal to conquer and claim what he had secretly desired for so long without wanting to admit it. Erik tasted sweeter than Robert had imagined him to taste, the sweetness of his mouth adding to the sweet taste of revenge Robert was finally getting for the younger man's betrayal.

The young chief of a big and powerful clan couldn't tell for sure when he had begun to see Erik in a different light, when he had noticed Erik's striking male beauty for the first time, his eyes lingering on the youthful and yet so strong body of his friend for longer than it would have been appropriate. They had bathed in the cold rivers of their homeland together, three boys and later young men enjoying some carefree hours when their various duties allowed them to take a break, fooling around in the clear water that was icy cold even in midsummer and not being ashamed of their nudity as they trusted each other with their lives and their hearts.

Robert had fought so hard against his feelings for the youngest one of their trio, trying to feel the same excitement and desire when he looked at Marco, his beloved friend and future mate, and he had suppressed his longing for the one he could never have with iron self-control, locking it deep inside him, telling himself again and again that Erik was nothing more than his cherished little foster brother until he almost believed himself.

Marco Reuss of the Reuss clan was meant to be his future mate, the one Robert was supposed to bond with to form the unbreakable alliance between their clans, and Robert wouldn't break the oath his deceased father had once sworn. He had started to avoid being alone with Erik, keeping his distance from the younger one, even though he could see how much it hurt and confused Erik. But Robert didn't trust himself enough when it came to the beautiful brunet he couldn't stop desiring - no matter how wrong it might be - and he had sought Marco's company, touching and kissing him whenever Erik was around to make clear whom he belonged to.

Marco had done his best to be the link between his two closest friends when they had drifted apart, sensing the tension between them their forbidden longing for one another had caused, but their former close friendship had suffered a lot because of Erik's silent and hopeless pining and Robert's suddenly strange behavior.

The dark-haired Mormaer wanted to believe that Erik was responsible for all of this mess, blaming him for Robert's unbidden desire for him, and he lay all of his anger, frustration and hate into his kiss, unable to stop himself from hurting Erik more and more. The heir of the Durmie clan didn't respond to the kiss, but he didn't try to bite Robert or push him away either, his breathing labored and uneven because of Robert's hand around his neck and Robert's tongue buried deep in his mouth.

Erik's resigned and quiet surrender to his furious onslaught only served to fuel Robert's anger even more, and the dark-haired Mormaer of Lewandoc growled and searched his way between their bodies to cup Erik's groin with his other hand. The younger man trembled and let out a pained whine when Robert's teeth carelessly drew blood, but he still didn't fight against Robert, just accepted his attack with another strangled groan of pain.

Robert pulled back when the need for air forced him to do so, staring at Erik with narrowed eyes. He was hard and aching despite his self-loathe and anger about his inability to stay away from his beautiful hostage, and he ignored the wave of shame and disgust washing over him with gritted teeth when he rubbed Erik's soft cock over the heavy wool of his kilt, the taste of revenge suddenly stale and not sweet any longer. Robert growled, annoyed that even this was taken away from him – the only thing left after Marco's death.

“This is what you wanted from me, isn't it, Durmie? Why are you looking so scared, then? You should be happy that I am finally willing to give you what you have dreamed of for so long!”

Erik swallowed audibly, and Robert realized with dismay that his fingers still enclosed Erik's throat far too tightly. He loosened his grip a little bit, not wanting to draw back completely and risk that Erik would start to fight again, but the younger man just inhaled a shaky breath and licked the blood from his bottom lip.

His face was snow-white, and the sight of the dark bruises shimmering deep red in the gloomy light of the candles let bitter bile rise in Robert's throat, replacing Erik's sweetness he could still taste on his tongue with the bitterness of defeat.

“Just go ahead if it makes you feel better, Robert Lewandoc! Throw your hate at me.” Erik croaked out at last, his voice hoarse and raw with the pain he must feel. “I haven't betrayed you and Marco, and I never wanted this to happen. Don't blame me for your own desire, I have never tried to take you away from Marco!”

“Who do you want to deceive with your lies, Durmie? I have seen the way you've been watching me ever since you were old enough to feel this kind of desire! You wanted me despite the oath my father had sworn to Marco's father, and you have secretly searched for a way to get rid of Marco so you could finally have me for a long time!” Robert snarled, but Erik only snorted, his beautiful hazel-green eyes shining darkly in his pale face.

“I wasn't the only one staring, Robert! You've always tried so desperately to hide your looks from me, but I have seen them nevertheless! If this will happen tonight, then only because of your desire for me, because you are too weak to resist me!” Erik growled, two deep-red spots forming on his snow-white cheeks.

Robert roared in fury, wishing nothing more than to silence Erik so he wouldn't have to hear the truth coming out of his mouth, and he surged forward and pressed his mouth on Erik's lips again, kissing him with all the suppressed desire, hate and anger that had choked him for so long.

Erik's head was shoved against the wall again, and his hands came up to claw at Robert's shirt. The older man wasn't sure whether the other one wanted to push him away or perhaps just pull him even closer, but he refused to think more closely about it. Instead he rubbed his painful erection against Erik's thigh, squeezing his still soft cock under the kilt. It angered and disturbed him that Erik was still flat and unaroused even though he knew that Erik desired him, and he pushed his hand under the younger man's clothing to stroke him and make him admit his own desire for Robert.

“I know that you want me, Erik Durmie, tonight you will finally admit what you have done to Marco!” he hissed against Erik's swollen and bitten lips, demanding entrance to the soft cavern of his mouth with his tongue again. “I hate you, I will make you pay for what you have done to Marco and me, Durmie!”

Robert's mind was clouded with all the emotions crushing down on him, and he just succumbed to the overwhelming storm of feelings raging inside him as he kissed Erik again, raw and hard and deep and passionately. He didn't allow the tenderness at Erik's small whimper to rise to the surface, the despair about what had happened to them and their friendship to raise its voice and make him stop.

Robert was blind to anything else other than the fire of his hate and helpless ire blazing before his eyes, the red flames of his fury turning the pale and bruised and still so beautiful face of the younger one into the ugly grimace of a monster – the monster of jealousy and envy Erik had become when Robert had told him about his imminent mate-ship with Marco.

The young Mormaer of Lewandoc was deaf to the whimpers and groans escaping Erik's bitten lips, silencing them with his brutal kiss until Erik would finally stop making them.

His blood thrummed in his ears, drowning out any other sound, and Robert roared and grabbed Erik's shoulders to turn him around, pressing his cheek against the cold stone. He pushed Erik's kilt up and spat in his hand to wet his fingers for what he was about to do, forcing his way between Erik's bare butt cheeks.

“I will make you regret the day you've been born, Erik Durmie, I'll make you pay for killing my bonded mate!” Robert didn't recognize his own voice, and if there had been any reasonable and coherent thought left in him, then he would have recoiled from himself, from the monster he had become himself because of Erik's betrayal and his own suppressed desire.

Erik sobbed against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut as he instinctively tried to get away from Robert's merciless embrace. “No, don't do that, please Robert, don't do that! Kill me if you must, but don't do that! Please, for your own sake, Robert, don't! I'm begging you!”

Erik's desperate cry echoed in the chilly chamber, and Robert froze in place, staring wide-eyed at Erik's trembling shoulders. Heavy chills were wrecking the younger one, his to tight fists balled hands bleeding where the rough stone had scratched the skin when Erik had braced them against the wall for support.

“Robert no, please, no!” Erik whispered brokenly, his self-control and calm breaking after four days of pain, fear, loneliness and cold in Robert's captivity. “It won't bring Marco back if you do that. It will only destroy both of us. He wouldn't want that, Robert... please... you would always hate yourself... I know that you hate me, I hate myself more than you'll ever know, but please don't do that, just kill me instead!”

Robert closed his eyes when nausea threatened to overcome him, and he swallowed several times before he trusted himself enough to move. He slowly and carefully stepped back, his eyes fixed on Erik's bruised face, and he didn't stop until his back hit the door. Robert turned around, and his hand trembled when he gave the sign and knocked several times against the door, wondering briefly how it came that he still remembered the set up sign. Several seconds passed until he could hear the sound of the key turning in the lock, and Robert tore the door open and ran down the stairs until he reached the front gate without looking at Sven and Seamus staring and shouting after him.

He didn't stop though, just pulled desperately at the small side-door, stumbling over his startled guards when he darted out of it, and he didn't slow down or turn around at the sound of their voices, just kept running until his legs didn't support him any longer and he fell down on the grass and pressed his hands against his ears, Erik's desperate plea repeating itself over and over in his head in an endless loop until he feared that he would lose his mind.

_“Robert no, please, no!”_

 

***

 

_“Woof, woof, woof!”_

There was a loud and excited bark somewhere in the back of his consciousness, followed by a short unintelligible order and a firm shake of his shoulder.

“What the hell have you done, Robert Lewandoc?”

Mata's hard voice startled Robert awake, and he blinked in confusion, needing several moments to orientate himself until his memory came back. He groaned, shuddering as he struggled into a sitting position. He must have fallen asleep where he had broken down, his limbs numb with the cold of the chilly wind blowing over the hills and mountains of his home. Mata was only a dark shadow against the pale moonlight, crouching beside him with the reins of his horse Skydancer in his hand. The stallion stomped his hooves and bent his neck to nibble from the short and hard grass, and a bitter laugh escaped Robert at the oddity of the situation.

A cool and wet tongue licking over his hands made him turn his head, and he swallowed when Hunter lay down beside him with a whine, happy to see his beloved master unharmed and awake. “Hunter, my good boy,” he croaked out, rubbing Hunter's head, and the fearsome hound whined again, pushing his nose against Robert's thigh to let himself be stroked.

“What did he tell you about what I have done?” Robert asked after clearing his throat twice to make his scratchy voice obey him again. He could still taste the bile on his tongue he had thrown up a few meters away from the spot where he had curled himself up afterwards, finally succumbing to his exhaustion; and he asked himself how he could ever have thought that revenge tasted sweet instead of bitter.

Mata regarded him mistrustfully. “Nothing. Your order was quite clear, chief. No visitors except from you, and Sven and Seamus haven't tried to talk to him about what happened between the two of you. They only checked whether or not he needed medical help, but Erik refused to talk to them and tell them anything. What did he say to make you storm out of the castle and into the cold like that? You have a responsibility towards our men, what do you think does seeing you like that do to them? Do you want to risk a mutiny or them questioning your state of mind, Robert?”

“No, of course not.” Robert rubbed his temples before burying his face in his hands. Hunter let out a woof of disappointment, crawling closer to press his trembling body against Robert's side, but the dark-haired highlander ignored his plea for attention this time.

Mata waited silently, his warm hand a heavy but welcome weight on Robert's numb shoulder. The dark-haired chief of the Lewandoc clan let the body heat of his loyal tacksman and friend seep through the thin linen of his shirt, and he accepted gratefully the plaid the other man wrapped around him after several moments, pulling it close around his shivering back. Hunter warmed his thigh, and Robert relaxed thankfully when the chills wrecking him became less violent.

“I... I almost raped him, Mata.”

Robert's words hung in the air, and the young Mormaer tensed up as he waited for Mata's reaction to his confession.

Mata sighed, sitting down beside Robert, his face a white spot in the darkness surrounding them as he looked at him from the side.

“I feared that you would do something stupid, Robert. You have kept your feelings locked inside you for so long, it is no wonder that they started to poison you. I know what your father promised to Tamhas Reuss, but the truth is that you have always desired Erik and not Marco, Robert.” Mata's voice was calm and without any judgment, and Robert stared at him in shock.

“How can you say that? I have never cheated on Marco, I was always faithful! I loved him – I still do! I will never stop loving him!” Robert wasn't sure who he wanted to assure with his words, Mata or more likely himself.

Mata returned his gaze calmly. “I didn't say that you cheated on Marco. And I know that you loved him dearly – like a brother, though. There was never real desire between the two of you. You were close, yes, but there weren't sparks flying between you like they are flying every single time you're in the same room with Erik.” Mata paused, regarding Robert closely. “That's why you hate him so much, isn't it? Your hate is your way of protecting yourself from the truth. You went to punish Erik, but the truth is that you actually tried to punish yourself for loving the wrong person.”

There was a long silence between them until Robert finally asked, his voice resigned and hopeless. “How long did you know?”

Mata shrugged his shoulders, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. “Always. I think that Marco always knew about your love for each other as well. But he never minded you your feelings for each other.”

Robert had been so desperate in hiding his forbidden love even from himself, and he felt as though his world was crushing down on him in this moment.

“So my feelings have always been common knowledge.”

Mata shook his head. “No, they haven't, Robert. You are good in keeping your thoughts and your feelings to yourself. But we grew up together, and I was the one you accepted to spend time with Marco, Erik and you once in a while. The others don't know, they only see what they want to see. Josh and Neacal might suspect that your feelings for Erik go deeper than you think that they should go, and Sven and Seamus have surely drawn some conclusions out of this evening, but they are loyal to you and won't tell anybody what they have seen or heard. Sven came to me and asked me to search for you without the others noticing that something is wrong, he is as worried about you as I am.”

Robert swallowed, deeply touched at the love and loyalty of his confidants and his most important clan members. Mata, Josh, Neacal, Sven and Seamus were his closest family in Castle Lewandoc, and he was grateful to have them and that he could share the heavy burden of duty and responsibility weighing on his shoulder's since his father's passing with them.

“You need to go back and talk to Erik, Robert.”

Mata's voice broke in on his musings, and Robert made a sound that was something between a snort and a bitter laugh. “I don't think that he ever wants to see me again after what I have done.”

His tacksman narrowed his eyes as he averted his eyes from the dark horizon to observe him. “Erik's love for you is stronger than you might think. You have always been his hero, his role model.”

“Not any longer.”

“You didn't really rape him, Robert, did you?”

Robert flinched, staring down at his boots, too ashamed to face his friend. “No, but it would not have taken much for that.”

“Hmm, that's not the controlled and reasonable Mormaer of Lewandoc I know, but Marco's death has been a terrible shock for all of us. Have you even tried to ask Erik what really happened in that night two weeks ago? We still don't know for sure what happened, it could have been a tragic accident.”

“No, I haven't. I was too busied with taking my anger and self-hatred out on him.”

“You should finally do it then, Robert. It won't take long until Tamlane Durmie will show up here and ask you why you're keeping his son hostage, only the storm that was raging over the past couple days has delayed his arrival.”

“I know that.” Robert pulled the plaid closer around his tired and hurting body. “The mere thought of what Erik has done is still making me furious.”

“You won't know what he has done until you'll ask him. You might not want to believe it, but Erik has always valued the motto of his clan highly. Trust and honor do mean something to him, and I am convinced that he will tell you the truth if you'll ask him. Listen to him before you judge him, my friend. He came here without an army after all, alone and without any weapon except for the dagger Neacal found when he examined him. I don't think that he would have done that if he was guilty of what you accuse him of.”

Robert silently nodded his head, accepting Mata's hand to help him up when his tacksman offered it to him. “I will talk to him,” was all he said, climbing onto Skydancer's back behind Mata. Hunter circled Mata's mount panting, eager to go back to the warm fireplace of his home and to his two companions Racer and Storm.

The wind was blowing the plaid around Robert's shoulders when Mata pressed his heels into the flanks of his stallion, their dark figures disappearing quickly in the distance as Skydancer galloped his way back to Castle Lewandoc, Hunter following them closely behind.


	4. A stunning Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert visits Erik in the tower rooms for a second time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but an important one, Erik and Robert making a cautious approach...
> 
> Please keep your feedback up, it's the only thing why I'm writing this story. <33
> 
>  _Frang_ : Gaelic version of Frank  
>  _Aiden_ : Gaelic version of Adrian/Arjen.
> 
>  _searrachan_ : Gaelic for little foal, Robert's nickname for Erik.  
>  _mathan_ : Gaelic for 'bear, Erik's nickname for Robert.

Robert felt like choking himself when he climbed the steep stairs for a second time in this cold and windy night, clutching the small pot with the ointment Neacal had given him with a knowing and understanding look in his eyes to his chest as if it was his only life-line.

Sven and Seamus stood before the door leading to the tower room in the same posture as they had stood there when Robert had come here for the first time earlier this evening, and the dark-haired clan-chief couldn't help but feel as though their roles had changed completely. This time they didn't stand there to keep Erik inside and from escaping Castle Lewandoc, but to protect him from their Mormaer hurting him more than he had already done it, and the look Seamus gave him only confirmed his impression.

Both men knew Erik for a long time, almost as long as Robert knew him, and they had always cherished him like a close family member of their own clan. Seamus held his gaze, refusing to step aside for the tiniest moment, and Robert really couldn't blame him. All of them were desperate and shocked about Marco's death, but none of them had made the mistake of blaming and judging Erik without asking him what had actually happened in that night two weeks ago – no one except for Robert – who had forbidden them to talk to him and ask him about the horrible night when Marco had been killed by cowardly assassins.

“I won't harm him again, Seamus, you have my word on that,” Robert broke the silence when his friend didn't move to let him enter the tower rooms, and he appreciated the younger man's willingness to stand up for the young heir of the Durmie clan regardless of him owing Robert his life and risking his wrath with his behavior.

Seamus swallowed audibly, his Adam's apple moving visibly under the still tanned skin of his throat. “Thank you, chief,” he said, slowly clearing the way for Robert to enter Erik's quarters. Sven hadn't said anything, he was the older and more level-headed one, and he only nodded before stepping aside as well and turning the key in the lock.

Robert reached out for the door handle but hesitated at the quiet sound of Sven's voice. “The same sign as before, chief?”

His fingers clenched around the cold iron of the handle, and he carefully shook his head. “Leave the door open. Erik is allowed to move freely in the castle from now on. He's not allowed to leave these walls for the time being, but he's not confined to the tower rooms any longer.”

“Understood, chief. Do you expect us to leave?” Seamus couldn't really hide the defiance in his voice, and Robert gifted him with a sad smile. “You are welcome to stay here and come to his help and protection in case you'll think that he'll need them, my friend,” he said, and Seamus' expression softened a little bit at that.

“I don't think that he'll need protection from you, Robert,” the younger Lewandoc assured him, “but there might be others he'll need protection from. Not all of us prefer to listen before acting. I've heard Frang talking to Aiden earlier, saying that 'the damn Durmie' should be thrown into the dungeon - and that he regrets it that you didn't keep him chained with the dogs for longer. He probably didn't really mean it, we all know that he's hot-blooded when it comes to such things, but still.”

Robert's face turned strict. “Thank you for telling me, Seamus. You're right, Frang is just trying to protect me, but he might be acting before thinking – just like I've done it for the last four days. Nothing good will ever come out of that, I've learned that the hard way. Neacal and Josh will come to take over the watch later so you'll get a few hours of rest. They won't let Frang and Aiden come near Erik.”

“Thank you, chief.” Sven and Seamus looked relieved, and Robert took a deep breath and pressed the door handle down at last, readying himself for his next encounter with the one who was haunting his dreams for so long. He could only hope that Erik was willing to hear him out and talk to him in return, and that he would finally tell him what had happened to Marco in that fateful night.

 

***

 

The room was dark when Robert entered it, one of the candles must have burnt out during his absence, and Erik was only a dark bundle on the small cot, shivering violently with the chills wrecking him under the thin blanket.

Robert rushed to the bed to drop down on his knees in front of it before he even realized what he was doing, and the way Erik flinched back from him like a scared animal that expected to be beaten made his throat go tight and let a wave of self-loathe wash over him. He stared at Robert with wide eyes, his face white like snow except for the dark bruises on his jaw. He didn't really seem to see Robert though, and the chills wrecking him became even more violent when Robert's scent filled his nose.

Robert couldn't remember any single time he had hated himself as much as he was doing it now.

“Hush, I haven't come to hurt you again, _searrachan_ ,” the young Mormaer whispered hoarsely, using the nickname he and Marco had called Erik by when they had been young boys. He didn't dare to touch the younger man, and he just kept making soothing noises until Erik let out a shaky sigh and his unsteady gaze sharpened, his hazel-green eyes hooded with the pain that was torturing him after Robert's attack.

“What did you come here for then, Mormaer of Lewandoc?” he asked, his voice only a croaked murmur due to his sore throat. He pulled the woolen blanket firmer around his body, but he just wouldn't stop shivering, his teeth clattering against each other, and Robert felt another wave of shame and guilt surge through him at the miserable sight of his former so beloved friend.

He had come to question Erik about Marco, but this wasn't important any longer. He hadn't cared to ask Erik about this horrible night when the younger one had come to him to ask him for help, and apart from that Erik could hardly speak without pain anyway. Robert only shook his head, remembering the small pot he was still pressing against his chest.

“I've brought something for your lips and your bruises,” he said awkwardly, reaching out with his hand to offer the ointment to Erik. Erik stared at it mistrustfully for a moment, and his fingers trembled too much to grab it when he tried to take it. Robert caught the earthen pot before it dropped down to the ground, opening the lid. The smell of herbals filled the cool air of the small chamber, and Robert dipped his finger into the creamy ointment.

“May I?” he asked, holding his breath as he waited for Erik's answer. The brunet hesitated, swallowing several times before finally nodding his head. It was only a tiny movement, but Robert wanted to sob with relief and gratitude.

“Thank you, _searrachan_. I will never hurt you again, I swear to you, never ever in my entire life.” The older man gently touched Erik's torn and bitten lips, applying the ointment as gently and carefully as he was able to do, Erik's scared eyes burning a hole in his face, following his every movement. Erik trembled under his touch like a small bird, but he didn't pull away, and Robert smeared the ointment onto his delicate jaw-line with greatest tenderness, searching for the hazel-green orbs watching him wearily when he had treated each of Erik's bruises with the salve.

“Will you allow me to touch your neck, _searrachan_? It needs treatment too.” he asked, wondering briefly why Erik didn't object to the petname. He knew that he had lost every right to use it, and he was grateful and astonished that Erik let him do it without throwing the hate and loathe he must feel for him in his face.

Erik's terse nod surprised both of them, and Robert's fingertips trembled when he touched the purple marks he had left on Erik's smooth skin.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, _searrachan_. I'm so incredibly sorry,” he heard himself whisper again and again, his voice strangled with shame and self-hatred, his fingers gliding over the red lines gently and softly.

“Yes, I know, my _mathan_ , I'm sorry too.” Erik stretched out a shaky hand to touch Robert's cheek, and Robert closed his eyes, not daring to move or even breathe. It was only a feather-light touch, Erik's fingertips icy from the cold and everything he had gone through over the past two weeks. Erik cupped his face with his hand after a few more seconds of hesitation, and Robert wondered about the miracle that the younger man could still touch him that tenderly, that he could still bear his mere presence so close by without screaming.

He pressed into Erik's touch, his longing for the younger one a physical ache in his chest. His heart was drumming hard against his ribs, and Robert took Erik's cold fingers in both hands to warm them, pressing a kiss onto his knuckles.

“Will you let me warm you, _searrachan_? Will you let me hold you? I won't touch you, but please let me hold you, let me warm you...” His voice trailed off, and Robert found himself trembling as well, not because of the chilly air but only because he feared that Erik would deny him his wish and tell him to leave him alone. The dark-haired Mormaer knew that he had no right to ask for Erik's forgiveness, that he had no right to hold him and warm him, but he couldn't keep the words inside, his deep blue eyes telling the younger one what he couldn't express with words.

“I know that I have no right to ask you for that, but please let me hold you...” Robert wasn't ashamed of the begging tone in his hoarse voice, and he was willing to do more than just beg if it only meant that Erik would be able to forgive him one day.

Erik opened his mouth, but a coughing fit made it impossible for him to speak, and Robert jumped to his feet to rush to the table and fill the forgotten mug with water from the carafe Sven and Seamus had put onto the table together with Erik's supper.

The young Durmie took it gratefully when Robert dropped down before the bed again, sipping from the cool liquid that eased the pain he must feel at least a little bit. “Thank you, my _mathan_.” Robert put the empty mug on the washstand beside Erik's cot, and he feared that he would break into tears when Erik lifted the blanket in an inviting gesture.

“I won't harm you, never again, _searrachan_ ,” he promised, and the faith he could see in Erik's eyes made him feel humble and blessed. “I know that you won't Robert, I trust you.”

“I don't deserve your trust, but I am thankful for it.” Robert took off his boots and lay down beside the younger one, gently closing his arms around him and pulling him close to his body. Erik unconsciously tensed up, his body betraying his words that he trusted Robert, and the dark-haired Mormaer of Lewandoc loosened his hold instantly, proving to the brunet that he wouldn't harm him or hold him against his will.

Erik squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled and exhaled several times to calm himself down, and his gaze was dark with shame when he looked at Robert again. “I'm sorry. I do trust you, my _mathan_. It's just that I...”

“It's not you who has to be sorry or to explain yourself, _searrachan_.” Robert murmured, carefully pulling Erik closer again. He waited anxiously, but Erik didn't draw back again, but pillowed his head on Robert's shoulder, melting against him with a another strangled sound.

The older man pulled the blankets over their bodies, hoping that his body heat would finally ease the chills and make the heavy shivers still wrecking Erik stop. They lay like this for a while without speaking, until Erik eventually raised his head from Robert's shoulder to search for his gaze.

“So, you don't think that I've killed Marco any longer, my _mathan_?” he asked, and Robert could hear the wary note in his raw voice.

He turned around until he lay on his side, tenderly cupping Erik's bruised cheek. “I don't know what I shall think or feel, Erik. You were the one inviting Marco to visit you right before our mate-ship would take place in a couple of weeks, and he was attacked and killed on his way to you, just before he reached Castle Durmie. There are rumors that those who did that were men of your clan attacking and murdering him, coward assassins attacking him and his two guards from an ambush on your territories – where he felt safe enough to send his men back to Castle Reuss. They wore the colors of the Durmie clan, so how could I possibly not think that it was your doing, Erik? You've desired me for years, this was your chance to become my bonded mate instead of Marco.” Robert's voice was calm and lacked any accusation or reproach, and he cupped Erik's face and stroked over his bottom lip with his thumb, a soft touch that made Erik snuggle closer to him.

There was hurt in Erik's beautiful hazel-green eyes, hurt about his beloved childhood friend deeming him capable of such a horrible deed, but there was also understanding for Robert's mistrust, together with another emotion darkening Erik's gaze Robert had no problems to recognize it as guilt. The younger highlander returned his attentive gaze openly though, and his voice was firm when he answered to Robert's implied question.

“Yes, I desire you, my _mathan_. I have desired you for a very long time. But Marco has always been my beloved brother, and I would never have tried anything to come between him and you. I always knew that you were promised to each other, and I would rather die than let my selfish wishes harm you in any way. I swear to you that it wasn't our clan attacking Marco.”

There was still this doubt gnawing at Robert, but Erik sounded so honest and sincere, and the grief Robert could see in his eyes was true and not just a facade to deceive him, the young Mormaer of Lewandoc knew Erik well enough for sensing that Erik mourned Marco's death as much as he did.

Their faces were only inches apart, and Erik's lithe frame felt so right in his arms, so warm and alive, and Robert instinctively leaned in to taste his lips again, to give his beloved searrachan the kiss he had wanted to give him for so long.

The younger man's eyes darkened with desire, but just when Robert touched his lips with his mouth, Erik drew back, turning his head to the side.

“No Robert, we can't do that. It wouldn't be right if we did that. I can't betray Marco like this.”

Robert swallowed, feeling hurt about Erik's rejection. “But Marco is dead, Erik. He will never come back to us... to me...” He bent forward again, but Erik put his finger onto his lips to keep him from kissing him.

“That's why I came to you, Robert. I don't think that Marco is dead. I do believe that he is still alive, and I think I know who his cowardly attackers were. I've searched for him for days but I couldn't find him, not without your help. I came here to ask you to come with me and save him, but you just wouldn't talk to me, you just didn't want to listen to me. Marco is alive, Robert, I can feel that. He is still somewhere out there, and we need to search for him together and find him!”

Robert's mind was spinning at Erik's revelation, the realization of what Erik's words implied literally crashing him. The older man just stared at his friend in shock, and he needed three attempts until his voice obeyed him again.

“What do you mean, Erik? You can't be serious! Do you really want to tell me that Marco wasn't killed? Do you really think that he is still alive?” was all he could finally stammer, unable to believe that he had heard him right.

Erik nodded, his hand cupping Robert's face, his expression a mixture of despair, urgency and hope.

“Yes, Robert, I am convinced that Marco is still alive. We need to find him before it is too late.”


	5. Erik's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert is finally willing to listen to Erik, and Erik tells him what he knows about the attack and what might have happened to Marco.  
> But they can't savor their newly regained trust in each other for much longer than a few minutes, because Erik's father has come to Castle Lewandoc to demand his son's freedom...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear Emma07,  
> you seemed to like this story, and I'm sorry that it took me so long to update it. I hope that you'll still be interested in it! <33
> 
> The Highlanders of the Durmie clan and the Huddersfield _'Terriers'_ players they are based upon:
> 
>  _Tamlane, Mormaer of Durmie_ : Erik's father Thomas Durm
> 
>  _Crìsdean, Erik's first guard_ : Christopher Schindler
> 
>  _Iain, Erik's second guard_ : Jonas Lössl
> 
> The name _'Jonas'_ has several meanings: dove, God's merciful gift, conqueror, destroyer. 'Dove' is actually the most common meaning, but the Gaelic name for dove would bee _'Colum'_ or _'Columbane'_ from Latin _'Columbia'_ , and 'Jonas' wouldn't be recognizable then any longer. Therefore I went with _Iain_ , which is the second translation of the name, meaning 'God's merciful gift'. :-)
> 
> (I couldn't help but let my most favorite Terriers next to Erik show up here too...)
> 
> Tamlane Durmie's guards:
> 
>  _Criostal_ : Chris Löwe
> 
>  _Collin_ : Collin Quaner
> 
>  _Fionnlagh_ : Florent Hadergjonaj
> 
>  _Ryan_ : Ryan Schofield
> 
> last but not least there appears a special Bayern player at the end of the chapter, someone who has grown on me, his clan will be explained in the notes of the next chapter:
> 
>  _Tòmas Mulleach of Mulleach_ : Thomas Müller. :-)

Robert was sure that he must have misunderstood Erik. It couldn't be that Marco was still alive, that he was still somewhere out there, most likely injured and needing the help of his future mate. The one who had wasted the precious time Marco might still have left before he would die with blaming Erik for something he most likely hadn't done at all.

If Marco had still been alive after Erik had come to Robert to ask for help, then it would all be Robert's fault if he died. The young Mormaer of Lewandoc choked on his feelings for a moment, unable to speak, and it was only the sudden and unexpected feeling of Erik's cool fingers tenderly touching his lips that made him snap back out of his paralyzed state.

“Marco was on his way to Durmie Castle when he was attacked, and he had already crossed our borders, you're right with that, my _mathan_ ,” Erik said urgently when he had Robert's full attention again. “But none of our clan would ever think of attacking my sworn brother. Marco came for the traditional farewell celebration that always takes place in the Castle where the best man of one of the two mates lives as you know.  
My father had arranged everything for the feast, and I was about to leave Castle Durmie to welcome Marco when we got information about the attack. Marco had thought himself to be safe on our territories and therefore taken only his two personal guards with him, sending the rest of his escort back to his father, so it was easy for these assassins coming from an ambush to defeat him. He normally would have been safe on our land, and I really blame myself that I waited so long with leaving the castle to ride towards him, but neither my father nor I myself thought Marco to be in danger in our territories.  
I hurried to come to Marco's help with several of our best fighters right after one of our scouts had come back to inform us, but we came too late. Two of Marco's clan-men were lying in their blood, and one of them was still alive when we found them. He told us that the attackers wore our colors, but that he had never seen them in Castle Durmie beforehand, and their accent was strange to him.  
Kevin has visited Castle Durmie often enough together with Marco to know all of us, and he was sure that the attackers didn't belong to our clan, but he couldn't tell us which clan they belonged to before he fell into a deep coma because of the blood loss.  
Iain and Crìsdean brought him back to my father while I started to search for Marco. He must have been able to escape, I found some shreds of his shirt and his plaid, but there was only little blood where Marco must have fought against his adversaries, and I found hoof prints of maybe three or four riders that led away from the spot where the ambush had taken place.  
I followed these prints to the mountains where I lost track of them. I realized that I would need help to find Marco, and Castle Lewandoc was much closer than Castle Durmie, so I came to you, my _mathan_. You know the rest of the story.”

Erik went silent, breathing hard after his long speech, and Robert felt terribly guilty. He indeed knew the rest of the story. Erik had come to him in the hope that Robert would help him to find their beloved childhood friend before it would be too late, and what had Robert done? Chained him like a dog, treating him worse than his hounds actually, calling him a liar and almost raping him in his ire.

There was only one thing that still made him be a little bit mistrustful, and he regarded Erik closely when he asked: “Why did you try to rescue Marco alone and without taking some of your men with you, Erik? You said that your guards Iain and Crìsdean brought Kevin back to your father, so it was foolish of you to search for Marco all alone – if you really had nothing to do with the attack.”

Erik blushed, but he didn't avert his eyes from Robert's intense gaze when he replied. “I wasn't alone. Marco was apparently still able to ride, judging by the traces I found, and you know that Thunder is faster than any other horse in the Highlands – except for his two brothers Nightshade and Nightstorm, that is. Kevin was severely injured, and Iain and Crìsdean were the only ones I trusted to bring him to Castle Durmie in time when he would still be alive, so I sent them back with Kevin. Ben and Alex tried to follow me, but their horses weren't fast enough, and I didn't think of waiting for them, all I wanted was to find Marco before it would be too late. I've lost them somewhere on the way – or better they lost me.” Erik had the decency to look sheepish, but he didn't seem to regret that he'd been alone on his rescue mission, and Robert knew that he'd probably done the same thing and not waited for the much slower horses of his guards to follow him. He'd given orders to take good care of Nightstorm, and Erik's stallion shared the large box with his older brother Nightshade.

Nightstorm and Nightshade were twin brothers, and their father was the father of Marco's beloved stallion Thunder as well. The three stallions were indeed the fastest horses in the entire Highlands, and all of them had the shimmering pitch black fur that their father Whirlwind possessed as well. Maybe Marco had been able to escape his attackers because of Thunder's incredible speed, hiding in the mountains to wait for the rescue party, and Robert wanted to jump to his feet and saddle Nightshade – _now_ – but he needed more information beforehand.

“You were acting pretty foolhardy, _searrachan_!” he chided Erik, and Erik sighed. “You would have done the same, Robert,” he defended himself, and now it was on Robert to blush. “Yes, I would have. But I'm older than you.” The mere thought of losing the man he loved so much made his blood run cold.

Erik lifted one of his eyebrows at him, and Robert felt a huge lump in his throat when his gaze fell onto the bruises and cuts on his face. “And that makes you invulnerable?”

“No, it doesn't,” Robert admitted hoarsely, gently pulling Erik close to inhale his wonderful scent. “But I can't stand the thought of losing you, _searrachan_.”

“You didn't lose me, my _mathan_ , I'm right here with you,” Erik whispered, snuggling close to Robert's strong frame for a short precious moment. Robert was amazed and ashamed that the younger Highlander was so willing to forgive him what he'd done to him, and he knew that he would never forgive himself for his cruelty. He would spend the rest of his life with trying to make up for the things he'd said and done, but a lifetime would probably be too short, and if Marco was still alive, then he would become Robert's mate and not the man Robert longed for with every fiber of his being.

“I love you, _searrachan_ ,” he croaked out, even though he didn't have the right to confess his love to Erik. But he needed to let Erik know how he felt about him before they found Marco.

“I love you too, my _mathan_. I love you more than anything, more than my own life.” Erik's voice was barely audible, and Robert couldn't breathe for a few seconds, everything inside him screaming to take him right there and then, to carve his claim deep into Erik's body and soul, deep inside him where it could never be erased again.

The young mormaer searched blindly for Erik's soft lips, and his desire for the younger one made his blood boil and his head spin with need. He was hard against Erik's thigh, and he could feel Erik's longing for him poking against his abdomen, now that the heir of the Durmie clan wasn't fighting against him and his own feelings any longer.

Robert instinctively bent down to kiss him, and Erik's lips tasted sweeter than honey when he touched them with his own with greatest tenderness in the first real kiss of two lovers, but footsteps on the staircase and a loud knock at the door made both of them freeze in place and turn their heads. In the next second, his first tacksman Mata stormed into the small chamber, his chest heaving with his raged breathing as he stared down at Robert and Erik's entangled bodies with wide eyes and anxious concern on his face.

“Lord Robert, you must come to the gate instantly. The Mormaer of Durmie has come with his men to negotiate the freedom of his son with you!”

 

***

 

Tamlane Durmie of Durmie was a warrior through ad through, still feared as one of the best fighters of the Highlands, even though he wasn't a young man any longer. But the years that had made his hair become gray and his skin wrinkled hadn't slowed his reflexes or weakened his strength, but made him become wiser and more experienced and only added to his skills and his lethal blow. His shoulders were still straight and his posture was proud when he rode over the Highlands on horseback, and his allies as much as his enemies uttered his name with respect and admiration.

But tonight he was only a worried father, his still so sharp eyes traveling over the deep red marks and bruises Erik's stay in Castle Lewandoc as Robert's prisoner had left on him. Tamlane's broad back slumped at the sight, deep lines of grief about Erik's poor state carving through his features, and Robert hated himself once more for what he'd done to the man he loved, driven by his unjustified hate and his bad conscience and the guilt he felt about loving the wrong man.

Robert and Erik had hurried the stairs down after Mata's announcement, heading to the large gate because both of them feared that blood would be shed if Tamlane Durmie had to fear for his son's life for any more minute.

The Mormaer of Durmie had come only with his personal guards Criostal, Collin, Fionnlagh and Ryan, and he hadn't come to fight against the Lewandoc clan, but to offer himself as Robert's hostage instead of his beloved son. Robert had actually been surprised about that, he'd expected Lord Durmie to come with a small army at least, but winter was about to come, and the mormaer of the Durmie clan couldn't risk baring his castle and his territories to his enemies, no matter how much he worried about his son and heir. Tamhas Russ, Marco's father and the Mormaer of Russ, must already be on his way to Castle Durmie to demand some answers, and whoever it was who'd been able to attack Marco from an ambush in Lord Durmie's territories so easily, they were certainly still lurking somewhere rather close by to learn whether or not their plot to spread mistrust and hate between the three powerful allied clans was starting to work out.

Robert had led his guests to the large hall to offer Lord Durmie and his guards something to drink and eat, but Tamlane ignored the table completely, taking his son by his slim shoulders to check his injuries.

“You chained him, Robert of Lewandoc! You chained my son like one of your dogs!” the older mormaer growled dangerously after his thorough observation, his dark eyes spitting angry fire at Robert. The dark-haired Highlander with the piercing blue eyes had expected Tamlane Durmie to realize what the red marks on Erik's swan-like neck meant, and he didn't flinch back or avert his eyes from Tamlane's understandable wrath.

The Mormaer of Durmie stepped closer with a furious expression, and Mata did the same to protect Robert, but the chief of the proud Lewandoc clan raised his hand to stop him. “Leave him be, my friend,” he said, and the impressive chief of the Durmie clan glared at Mata, warning not to do anything stupid before he focused back on Robert again with another growl.

“How could you do that to my son and heir – to your foster brother and friend, Robert? I have rocked you on my knees when you were a young boy, and how do you pay me back for the love you received from me? I treated you like my own flesh and blood, and you really dared to lay my son in chains as if he were one of your hounds? How could you do that! Where was your sense of honor and justice when you chained my beloved son to your walls?” Tamlane's voice echoed in Robert's hall like rolling thunder, but Robert could hear the despair and deep hurt his former foster father felt about his betrayal, and he knew that the Mormaer of Durmie had every right to blame him and take revenge for what he'd done to Erik.

“Father, don't be angry with him. Robert had all reasons to believe that I killed Marco - if not with my own hands, than by hiring some assassins to do that for me,” Erik tried to defend Robert, and the young mormaer was deeply touched that Erik was willing to do that for him, but Tamlane only narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“No, he had not, my son! You came to him to ask him for help and find both of your friend together – this man's future mate, and what did he do?! Accusing you of being able to commit the worst and most horrible crime imaginable: that you were indeed capable of killing your beloved best friend and foster brother out of the selfish reason to become Robert's mate instead, something you would never do!”

This time Robert couldn't hide his violent flinch, because he'd really hoped that nobody else except for Mata perhaps knew about Erik's feelings for him – and his feelings for his _searrachan_ in return - but Tamlane's expression proved to him that he'd been wrong here.

“How could he even think for just one second that you could ever do that!” The tall mormaer now continued, and Robert was struck again by the similarities of father and son. Erik had inherited the best of both of his parents when it came to his looks, the beauty of his mother and the figure and features of his father above of their kind and caring, honorable nature.

“You knew my son, Robert of Durmie, you knew him better than anybody else. You of all people must know that he could never harm Marco! Erik trusted you with his life and his heart, and you had nothing better to do than betray him in his weakest hour!”

Tamlane was right with everything he said, and Robert lowered his head down in defeat and swallowed hard. “You're right, Tamlane. What I did was unforgivable, and I won't even start to try and justify myself. I will await your decision about my punishment when we've found Marco, but please let me search for my future mate together with Erik's help. Marco needs us.”

“Yes, he does, and I can only hope that you won't come too late to save him because of your insanity and cruelty!” Tamlane Durmie dropped down on the wooden bench at last, rubbing his face in a tired gesture. He took one of the cups to empty its contents with three large thirsty gulps, and Erik sat down beside him, laying his hand on his father's shoulder. Tamlane turned his head to look at him, reaching out with his hand to cup his bruised jaw with calloused but gentle fingers.

“I'll never forgive him for what he did to you, son,” he said hoarsely, and Erik smiled at him. “Please don't say that, father. Robert was out of his mind with grief, and all evidences spoke against me.”

“Yet he should have known you better than to accuse you of such a horrible deed, regardless of some seemingly rightful evidences!” Tamlane growled with a reproachful glance at Robert, but his voice had lost some of its venom, and the fire of wrath blazing in his eyes had lost some of its fierce glow.

“It's complicated,” Erik murmured, but his father just snorted. “No, it's not. Criostal of Lewandoc and Tamhas of Russ never wanted to listen to me when I told them that Robert and Marco were too young to be engaged to a future mate-ship, and I was right with my doubts. Now we all have to live with the consequences of their foolish decisions, and look what has come out of it. Marco is missing, and Robert... Robert proved his hot-blooded nature once more.” Robert blushed, sitting down opposite the two Durmies reluctantly. Mata took up position behind him with his hand hovering over the handle of his sword, and Seamus, Sven, Neacal and Josh were watching Tamlane's personal guards closely, hindering them from coming closer to their lord. They had once been brothers in arms, but the unknown assassins had been very successful with spreading mistrust and hate among former friends and allies thoroughly as it would seem.

“When will you finally start to think before acting, Robert?” Tamlane snarled, and Robert pulled a face. “I've learned my lesson, Lord Durmie,” he mumbled, searching for Erik's gaze. He could still feel his lips on his mouth, but this was not the time for dwelling in wistful dreams that could never come true.

“We need to search for Marco, and we need to start with our rescue mission tonight when it's still dark enough outside to hide our departure,” he changed the topic to their most pressing concern, and Tamlane sighed but nodded. “As much as I crave to come with you, but I have responsibilities towards our clan, and I'm expecting Tamhas' imminent arrival in Castle Durmie. We need to prepare for another possible and definitely much larger attack, and I would advise you to do the same, Lord Lewandoc,” he stated, addressing Robert with his title this time.

“Mata will stand his ground here in Castle Lewandoc together with Sven and Seamus. He'll know what to do in case that another clan tries to attack us. If we only knew where to search for Marco,” Robert gave back, and Erik suddenly straightened his shoulders. “Where is the dagger Mata took away from me? It wasn't my own one! I found it near the place where Marco's men lay in their blood. Maybe it'll tell us the origin of our enemies!”

Robert had almost forgotten that Mata had taken Erik's dagger, and he rose to his feet immediately, eager to get another proof that Erik had spoken the truth. Deep in his heart he knew that he'd been wrong about accusing Erik of trying to harm Marco, but having an evidence of his innocence would help his men to believe Erik as well.

“I brought it to my rooms, but I must admit that I didn't take a closer look at it,” he said, blushing because this was not the whole truth. Robert had wanted to keep the dagger to have a reminder of Erik's seeming terrible deed, something that would remind him why he couldn't love Erik the way he did but should hate him instead.

Tamlane seemed to read his thoughts because his expression darkened again, but he remained silent, only regarded Robert with a frown.

“I'll go get it, I'll be back right away again,” Robert murmured, glad that he had a reason to leave the hall for a few minutes. He really needed to collect himself and regain back his self-control, but his hopes to have a moment to himself crashed in the very next second.

This time it was Frang storming into the hall, and his announcement stunned every person standing or sitting in the large knight hall of Castle Lewandoc into silence.

“Tòmas Mulleach of Mulleach is knocking at your gate, Lord Robert. He says that he has urgent news to share with you, and he's brought a hostage with him.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't be silent and indifferent readers but support them with your feedback. <33


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